


Takes One to Bring the Pain

by Kieran_Bixbie



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Blindfolds, Bloodplay, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, M/M, S&M, Stabbing, this turned out longer than expected but im not complaining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kieran_Bixbie/pseuds/Kieran_Bixbie
Summary: sinbad wants ja'far to cut him a bit, and ja'far hesitantly complies





	Takes One to Bring the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> named after a line from "bruises and bitemarks" by good with grenades, which is the song i was listening to while writing this. i've written so many partially-complete fics to that song lmao
> 
> also there's no real smut it's just sin getting cut and stabbed a little bit

This is not how Sinbad expected things to go. In fact, when he brought the idea up, he expected to have to play it off as a joke, but that never proved necessary. There was an interest taken in his fantasy, even if it seemed hesitant.

Red wires bind the king's wrists together and there's a blindfold over his eyes, and he honestly didn't expect things to go this well. It feels so nice having the points of Ja'far's darts pushing against the skin of his stomach. It hasn't broken the skin yet, but there's added pressure here and there that threatens to draw blood, but it doesn't happen.

“Are you getting impatient, Sin?” There's a note of teasing in Ja'far's voice. He's been taking his sweet time for at least three or four minutes, letting out a small chuckle every time his king reacted very much.

But how was he supposed to keep from reacting? He's been twitching and leaking for the better half of this experience, because the anticipation has been just a little too much. He's had too much pride to beg, so he's been lying at Ja'far's complete mercy for the past however long trying to keep from making too much noise or squirming around. He's about to break, and his advisor knows that.

“Come on,” he prompts again, hips rolling so as to grind against the man beneath him. His voice is so calm and controlled, showing no sense of urgency or desire and only a touch of a sense of dominance. “Say it. We both know you're going to end up asking for it sooner or later, so let me hear you do it _now_.”

“Please—” Sinbad swallows hard after the word, cutting himself off and trying to get the taste of it out of his mouth. He wants it to be forced from him, but it's not exactly dignified to beg, so he tries not to. “Ja'far, please.”

There's an indecisive hum, and for a moment, Sinbad thinks his advisor just might get up and leave. But he doesn't—he gives what was asked for and presses the tip of the dart against the king's side, and there's nothing but slightly worse pain than earlier, but then he can feel a few beads of blood welling up along the scratch and sliding down to the bedsheets. He squirms a little, trying to prompt more, but there's a few seconds of nothing.

And then a quick, painful slice across his abdomen. Sinbad is pretty sure it's not going to bleed much, but it must have gone deeper than he thought, because he can feel it bleeding more than expected. It's mostly the pain, but part of it is also the feeling of his own blood spilling from him, even if it's just a little.

Sinbad can't help letting out a very quiet groan, and as much as he tries to keep himself still, he rocks his hips upward just a fraction. It's embarrassing, almost.

“This one is going to hurt,” Ja'far warns as he presses the sharp point of the weapon against his king, right below his sternum.

“Just do it _please_.”

The tip presses through the skin, deeper than the first two cuts, and it leaves Sinbad's breaths coming quickly and shallowly as Ja'far slowly—painstakingly slowly—cuts down to his navel. It leaves a bleeding trail, spilling out of the cut and over his tanned skin.

Ja'far doesn't remove the dart and instead draws it back up, back through the wound, and that causes a good bit of pain that makes Sinbad's back arch.

After a minute, Ja'far takes a deep breath. “You wanted to be stabbed, too, right?”

“Take the blindfold off first.”

“You want—you want to watch me stick something into you?”

Sinbad gives a small laugh, almost like it's actually funny. (Maybe it is.) “It'll add to the adrenaline rush.”

“Do you want to stay tied up?”

“I'd barely call _this_ being 'tied up,' but yes, I do.” He almost adds that it gives a sense of vulnerability, but he doesn't feel like admitting that, even if his advisor already knows.

Ja'far uses his free hand to untie the blindfold and pull it away, and _wow_ , that's a lot of blood. The upper part of his abdomen is streaked with blood and the horizontal cut right below his navel is leaving crimson sliding down his stomach. It nearly makes him feel dizzy, but this is exactly what he wanted.

The softest parts to stab are probably the very low right and left sides of his body down near his hips, and the part on the left is where Ja'far has his dart hovering above. His breaths are almost as quick and strained as Sinbad's and his hands are shaking.

“Ja'far.”

The advisor doesn't respond, probably too focused on trying to psych himself up to actually stab someone who matters so much to him. He's not succeeding, but he's certainly trying.

“ _Ja'far_.”

“S-sorry, Sin, did you change your mind?” He seems so nervous now, perhaps even a bit timid, and his voice trembles just slightly. He's not going to be able to do this after all, it looks like, but if he doesn't want to, it's probably best for him to just say so.

“I haven't, but you're having a lot of doubts. You don't have to do this if you don't—”

Sinbad isn't able to finish his sentence before Ja'far suddenly stabs him. For a split second, it looks fine and doesn't hurt, but blood begins welling up around it and there's a shooting pain originating from that part of his body.

“And I'm supposed to twist it...right?” The advisor's eyes are wide with shock, as if he was the one who'd just been stabbed, and there's no doubt that he's absolutely stunned that he just drove his dart into Sinbad's body.

Sinbad is panting, chest heaving and hips rocking uselessly in an attempt to get some kind of proper friction. He's a mess, _such_ a mess, but he can manage, “Only if...y-you're able to...”

There's no real way to describe the pain when the weapon twists, cutting a hole into his body and ensuring that he'll need to get medical attention as soon as they're through here. He's gasping through gritted teeth and it hurts _so bad_ —

His head goes back further against the pillows and he whines—so undignified and very clearly an actual _whine_ —and he finishes without any other warning, which leaves him panting and overwhelmed.

The king's wrists are quickly untied once he comes down from his high and the bloody dart is discarded onto the floor. Ja'far seems almost frantic as he tosses the wired to the floor as well, but he stops when his wrists are grabbed.

“Calm down—that was fun. You should do that again sometime.”

 


End file.
